Once a Villain
by thefriendlyguy63
Summary: We are all familiar with Gotham's most infamous 'Clown Prince of Crime.' But how did he come to power? And was he always the way he is? Pre-TDK (Disclaimer: I do not own DC, or any of the characters.)
1. My Name Is Jack

**A/N:**

**Hello! Welcome to my new fic… This one is obviously a different fandom to my others, and there's a few things I need to point out:**

**First of all, as you can tell from the description, this is a fic about the Joker as a kid (or the Joklet, as my mum said), and the character of this one is based off Heath Ledger's Joker, since I fell in love with him when I watched The Dark Knight, and his past is definitely more shadowed than other Jokers, such as Jack Nicholson's version.**

**Secondly, in this fic, I've kept his real name as Jack Napier, since it's the only true name he's ever been given, yet he does change it later on, as you will see.**

**Finally, I'm aware of some theories from the comic books, other films, and those from fans on the internet about the Joker's past, however I'm trying to put my own spin on it, just so it's not completely canon (this is fanfiction, after all). Plus, I'm not all that much of an expert on the original comics, though I'm kind of doing a mash-up, if you like, of various features of said theories, and my own ideas. **

**Sorry for going on, but I really felt the need to address those issues. Of course, if you have any further questions, you can always drop a review or PM me.**

**Thank you, and I hope you enjoy this fic! :)**

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><p><em>Dear Dia- <em>_Dear-_

_Day 1_

_Keeping a diary or a journal is supposed to be a girl's thing, but Mom said it could be a good idea, especially when I'm feeling upset because of __stuff._

_I don't really know what to write, since I'm not really writing to anyone, but anyway. My name is Jack Napier, and I'm ten years old. My mom's name is... Belinda. And my dad… he's never told me. I go to school at some primary school that no-one likes. I don't have any friends, since that's silly. And there's no point – they'd only end up moving schools or leaving me when the 'cool kids' start talking to them and drag them into their gang. I enjoy my lessons. I get average marks, since being at the bottom of the class or the top always gets you singled out. _

_My favorite lesson is Science. We got to cut up a worm once, which was funny. A kid chucked a live one in my face, so I caught him with the scalpel. It was barely a scratch, but he made such a fuss. The teacher just told him to be quiet, and it got passed off as an accident since she thought he just wanted attention. He got me later though._

_When I'm older, I want to be a doctor. Miss McMahon always says I should be an artist, since I paint and draw a lot. She says my ideas and creativity is 'unique.' It's fun, but the fact that you can cut someone open to make them better… I've always found it fascinating._

_At home, I don't do much. Mostly drawing. I don't sleep very well though. Mom spoke about getting a __prescription to help, but I think Dad found out. She didn't talk about it again._

_Anyway, it's late. I've got a Maths test in the morning, but I usually end up doodling on it._


	2. An Update On Stuff

_Day 14_

_I know I haven't written in a while. I haven't been busy, the time just… disappears, I guess. _

_I found a bird on the side of the road on the way home. I'm not sure which type it was, but it had red on its front. Though that might have just been blood. I brought it inside anyway. It's lying down on my desk in front of my face at the moment. It seems to be watching me, but then not, since its eyes are all… gray and impossible. I like it. It's comforting._

_Mom booked me in to speak to a doctor about my sleeping problems. He's not all that helpful, but he did give me some pills that put me to sleep for a little while. Dad doesn't know._

_It's our next-door-neighbor's birthday right now, so the boom and bang of fireworks is keeping me up. Well, not really, since my mind keeps me up, and I didn't take my pills yet. I can just about see the white and red and green lights peeking out from behind the curtains in my room, shimmering, glowing, beautiful. The explosions look awesome._

_Last night I managed to get lots of sleep, about five hours. The only problem was that I wet the bed again. I would never tell anyone at school this – I don't have anyone to tell anyway. I know I'm too old to wet the bed, but I can't seem to stop it. I guess that's one reason why I don't sleep. Dad always got angry when he found out I ruined my bed sheets almost every night, so now I just don't tell him. Instead, I just take the dirty sheets off and stuff them under my bed, and also change my pajamas in the middle of the night as quiet as a mouse. Mom sometimes finds them when she cleans my room, but she doesn't get mad, she only looks at me with a sympathetic frown. "Just don't let Daddy find out, okay?" she always says, looking at me directly in the eye. "That's my boy." After I nod my head silently, she'll ruffle my hair and smile. _

_It's my eleventh birthday next week. I'm one of the youngest in my class, which gives the other kids extra ammo against me. It's a bit scary, since I'm starting middle school in a couple of months. I'm also excited, since it means more advanced work and a bigger school, which means more places to hide and the work will help take my mind off… things._

_For my birthday, I'll probably just have a meal with Mom, and Dad._


	3. Fire, Fire

_Day 19_

_I didn't think I'd have time to write this, but since I'm now grounded I do. _

_I'm grounded because of what happened today. My birthday. I set my school on fire. I was bored. I just sort of… did it. It wasn't planned out or anything like that. I didn't do it because I hate school or anyone in it – well I do despise most of the kids but they're all so unimportant to me, so that makes no difference. I don't even know if anyone got hurt. I think maybe the teacher that was in the thick of it got burned a little. Oh yeah, and one kid's jacket sleeve set on fire, so he probably did the whole 'Stop, drop and roll' thing. I don't know. I wasn't watching them._

_You (whoever you even are) wanna know how I managed to set my whole school on fire? I was walking out of lunch, alone, as usual. I was going to one of the Science labs to do some homework or something, I don't remember, when I noticed one of the lab doors was ajar. No one was in there, it was completely deserted. Mr Latham must have been on his lunch break in the staff room. There were a few Bunsen burners on the side that were plugged into the gas taps. I knew how the mains gas worked, and my hand just pulled the lever down, without thinking about it. Of course I knew what would happen, and I guess the idea of using that to burn the school to the ground was niggling at the back of my mind, but I didn't do it consciously, really. Then, I turned every single gas tap on in the room, left the room, but made sure the door was more than a little ajar. _

_Because my school is so small, all the classrooms are connected. So, when the teacher went into the lab and flipped on a lighter for his next class' experiment, the whole room practically exploded and the rest of the school building set on fire pretty quick. While all the other kids were flailing about or lining up to exit the building as sensibly as possible, or just screaming, screaming… I walked out, calmly and silently. Then, when I reached the front of the building, I just stood there. I stood there watching the flames engulf the bricks, licking at the framework with a hungry glint being shown through the orange beauty. And it was beauty. It was the most precious thing I've ever seen. I could have stayed there forever, or at least until the flames died out, but in that moment they felt immortal. And so did I. But eventually a teacher saw me stood there staring, and they grabbed me, pulling me away from my fire. The rest, as they say, is history. I was vaguely aware of many people talking to me, shouting, screaming at me to tell them what happened, but I was unresponsive._

_Next thing I know, I was being driven home in a cab, with my head teacher as my escort, and they explained to Mom that I was suspended – no, expelled – for the foreseeable future. Seeing as I'm now booked in for therapy sessions, I won't be getting into the middle school I wanted either. Or rather, that my mom wanted. But we'll look at a new one soon._

_I think my mom is a bit upset. In fact, I can hear her and dad talking right now. They're all the way downstairs, but I can hear them. _


	4. Pretty Flowers

_Day 22_

_So it turns out that that teacher I mentioned before? He got more than a little burned. He's in hospital in a barely stable condition. Mom didn't tell me, of course. I just managed to catch it on the news before she came in my room and turned it off. She frowned down at me, saying 'You shouldn't be watching that, it's not very nice and you wouldn't like it.' When I looked up at her, I noticed she had a purple flower on her face that was peeking out from behind her blond hair. I didn't say anything about it, but I could tell she knew I saw it, since she quickly turned away and left my room._

_It's boring here at home. There's no work to do and no teachers to talk to. I don't miss the kids, but then again, it's kind of fun to watch them, knowing how insignificant they are and how they'll fall later. Though I do talk to my bird. It's starting to smell a little now, but I like it. I haven't named it._

_Mom's still ringing up other middle schools for me to get a place in. I'll be starting in only two months, that is, if I do get a place. There is one school that had a possible place. Arkham Middle School, on the outskirts of Gotham City. They said they'll ring back._

_Last night, I heard Mom and Dad again. Their voices were quite loud. Mom was yelling in a high-pitched voice and Dad was shouting in a deep voice. He sounded angry and she sounded scared. At one point they both went completely silent, but then soon after I heard a plate or a vase or something smash in a muffled way. Then I think Mom was crying. This morning, she had more flowers. Some were red, some were purple. The old purple one had turned yellowy-gray. _


	5. Clowning Around

_Day 30_

_My school's – well, non-school – on summer vacation now. So nothing changes for me._

_Although I'm still grounded for ages, Mom took me to the circus. It was yesterday, around two in the afternoon. She picked that time and day especially because she knew it wouldn't be all that busy, since the kids would still have been at school. Mom always thinks like that. _

_When we got there, I could see the tent standing above everyone. Better than us. It was red and white striped, like a bandage or a barber's pole. I hated it already._

_We walked in together, but I was standing behind Mom a bit. Not long after we found a seat (front row, Mom's choice), the lights dimmed and a man came on introducing the show. I didn't pay much attention to him. Then the strange men in masks came on. Since I'd never been to the circus before, I didn't realise what they were, but my mom told me later that they were clowns. One of them left the stage and walked right up to me. He looked me right in the eye. "Smell my flower," he said. I was hesitant at first, but then Mom nudged me so I leaned in. The moment I got close enough, a small jet of cold liquid hit me right in the face. I was too startled react at first, so I just stared at the clown as he laughed at me, laughed with a big red smile so much that his funny coloured hair started shaking. Then I turned to Mom, thinking she would look as scared as I felt, but she was laughing too. Mocking me. They both were. _

_Without thinking, I stood up and ran out of the tent. I could feel tears brimming on the edge of my eyelids – it felt like fire. They only began to fall when my mom's hand touched my shoulder in an attempt to comfort me. "I'm sorry, Jack," she said, staring right into my eyes. "I didn't mean to make you upset – the clown was just trying to make you laugh." I just nodded my head while she wiped my tears away. Smiling down at me, Mom put her arm around me as we walked further and further away from the horrible tent and the horrible clown._

_Mom made me my favorite sandwich when we got home. But I had nightmares all of last night. Of many faces with their bleached skin and blood-red smiles crowding around me, their green and orange and yellow hair tickling my face as they giggled crazily. My bed sheets and pants were wet when I woke. Mom heard my screams so came in and sorted my bed and pajamas out, since Dad hadn't come home. Her eyes were red._


	6. How's Dr Phil?

_Day 47_

_Another long break from writing. I know._

_You know the therapy sessions I mentioned about a month ago? Well I started those a few weeks back. My doctor is… nice, I think is the right word. I guess it's helpful since he lives next door to us. He asks me lots of questions about my life, my school and my thoughts. I tell him the first thing that comes to mind. Kind of a waste of half an hour, if you ask him. If you ask me, I think I learn more about my doctor than he learns about me. I mean, a lot is obvious from his office – he's married, around five years, with two kids and a dog. Maybe a rabbit. Then he reveals more in his choice of wording and facial expressions. So far, I've gathered that he's very careful, so is used to making decisions, but often needs help with it. He struggles with socialising with relatives, but makes friends fairly easily. In his school days, he was a goody-two-shoes student, getting top grades and a steady girlfriend at college. Although he's deeply in love with his wife, he's almost definitely going to have an affair in the next ten years. Boring retirement, due to his job. Possible use of a loan shark, could prove troublesome… The list goes on. _

_But enough about that. I'm still having nightmares. I've just stopped screaming out. _

_About the bird on my desk. It's long gone now. Mom found it one day, since I forgot to hide it under my bed. She covered her mouth with her hands and asked me why it was there. I told her that it must have flown in when the window was open and died. I just didn't notice, apart from the smell. It's the truth, after all. I believe it. _

_Dad's been staying out later and later each night, to the point where some nights, he just doesn't come home. That means more waterfalls from Mom. _


	7. Dad

_Day 52_

_Today, I feel like writing about Dad. So I'm just gonna do it._

_The first thing about my dad is that he's a monster. Not the type that kids dress up as on Halloween, or the type that you're always scared is hiding under your bed or in the darkness. The real type. The monsters that look and talk and move around like normal people, but are actually killers or kidnappers or just miserable people that ruin other people's lives. The worst type. See, my dad is the type of monster that children should fear. But instead, you're scared of the Boogeyman, or ghosts, or evil Santa Claus, or Bigfoot, or werewolves, or vampires… Creations, imagination. Silly monsters that don't exist and can't hurt you. And that's why kids forget about the real ones. _

_You're (still don't know who you are) probably wondering why I call my dad a monster, or why I fear him. It's because… he likes to create flowers. He creates so many flowers, and not just on the skin, but in the mind too. And then, when he's created more than you can stand, he leaves. For days on end. When he finally does return home, he pretends nothing has happened. And Mom, she creates waterfalls, and her eyes are red all the time – whether Dad's at home or away. She's always so afraid of what she says and does, even when Dad isn't near, and even when he wouldn't know. Sometimes she does take risks, like when we went to the circus together, or when she changed my bed sheets. But he usually finds out, and then I've lost her again. And I hate him for that. Hate him._

_But I'm not all that scared of Dad. Not really. I'm mostly scared for Mom, and for what he'll turn her into. Because no one, no one gets that many flowers and doesn't change._

_I guess I'm also fearful –well, not so much fearful, more like… unwanting, or disliking of the idea of – becoming like him. I don't want to turn into him. I don't want it. I don't. _


	8. New School, New Pet

_Day 59_

_I put the news on again this morning. I know Mom doesn't like it, but I think it's quite funny. Nothing much was happening today, though – well, nothing that caught my interest, anyway. Just a few faux sightings of a supposed 'missing' person, some kid's parents got killed, a news article on pollution. Little things that are always happening in the world that are important to some people for a while before they just fizzle away into the background. _

_Back in the real world, I have a new pet. Since the bird had to go. This one is a rabbit. Okay, yeah it's not really my pet because I stole it from next door, but still. I'm not naming it again, not unless a good name comes to mind. I think the kid whom the rabbit belongs to calls it Snowball or Bluebell or something, but they're lame names. Actually, Snowball isn't all that bad… It's obvious why they'd call a white rabbit Snowball, but Bluebell took me a little longer to get. Though I can see it now._

_Anyway, this new pet of mine is proving to be more fun that the bird. It hops around a lot when I play with it, and twitches its little funny nose. It still hasn't made a noise, but I'm working on it. Do rabbits make noises? I don't know. Whatever. It's fun. I like it. But the kids who live next door don't seem to think so. When I looked out of my window, I could see the little girl running around like a headless chicken, wailing like crazy. I mean, does she really think that's gonna help her get Snowbell back? I don't think so._

_One other thing that's come out of this week is that Arkham Middle School rang back. Since their school accepts children 'from all backgrounds' in order to give them a 'second chance', whatever that means, they're willing to take me on. To be honest, if they're gonna accept me when I burned my school down, there's probably killers and stoners in the place. Well, it'll certainly be interesting. I'm looking forward to it. Mom spoke to me about using this opportunity to make something of myself, but I don't think I really want to be a doctor anymore. Okay, I might do, but I have a feeling that Arkham Middle School will make my mind up for me, or lead me onto a different track, at least. _

_For the remainder of my summer vacation, who know what will happen. The next month or so isn't planned, so I guess not much. At least I have my pet to keep me company._


	9. Therapy Tales

_Day 66_

_Today's therapy session didn't go too well. It started off as normal – my doctor (Dr. Johnson? Dr. Henderson? Dr. Ellis? I don't remember his name) asked me how I was, what I'd been doing all week, the usual stuff I make up. Mom waits outside while I'm in my sessions, but today he invited her in. He said some rubbish along the lines of "seeing the bond between mother and son often helps me understand your mind set". Sometimes I don't think even he knows what he's saying. _

_But anyway, Mom came in and sat next to me, perched on the edge of her seat. When I looked up at her, she gave me a small smile and a subtle wink. I wasn't nervous anyway, just a little bored. _

_Then the doctor began talking to my mom. "Your son's been doing very well these past few weeks. I think this could be his last session, if you agree with me, of course." He said. The way he was speaking to Mom in front of me made it feel like the parent-teacher interviews at school every semester. I sort of zoned out after a minute or so, until I saw them both staring down at me. "What?" I asked them. The doctor then explained that Mom told him about the journal I keep. The one I'm writing in right now. This one. _

_I couldn't exactly back out of that one, since Mom had already told him, but I wish she hadn't. "Uh, yeah, but it's private." I told him, making sure he knew I didn't want to talk about it. But he still carried on. "Well, maybe you could bring it in, and I could have a read. I know it's personal, but it will only stay between us if you want. Not even your mom has to know." Mom nodded and smiled in agreement. I kept telling him 'no', but he kept pushing. I hate it when people do that. Why can't they just leave it?_

_Eventually, I ended up just walking out. I'd had enough, and it was always stuffy in his office. The scenery was so loud that day too, and I didn't like it. Mom came after me, but the doctor stayed where he was, which was probably for the better. She said I didn't have to go back, and that I could have a break from therapy for a couple of weeks if I wanted. She also apologised for pushing me. We shared a hug. I didn't blame her. I never do._


	10. Little Bunny

_Day 78_

_My rabbit didn't last long, which makes me feel a little lonely. It was good company, and I thought we shared some funny times together. I should probably tell the story of how it died._

_When I woke up in the morning, after eating breakfast and getting changed and going to the stores with Mom (I don't often go, but I had to try on my new school uniform), I went straight to my rabbit. It was always there waiting for me, in a cardboard box under my bed – the same one that my bird stayed in before. I picked it up, and it smelled quite bad, since I've had it for a week or however long. I sat the white fluff on my desk, and it hobbled around for a bit. I picked up one of my pencils and prodded it, but all it did was change direction. So I sharpened it. The pencil, I mean. Sharpened it to a point. Then I stabbed harder. This time, the rabbit jumped and made a little growling noise. So I pushed even further. A cherry of red leaked out onto its fur and blossomed out, making about a quarter of the rabbit's fur a sticky wet crimson. Then the rabbit stopped moving. Instead, it just sat there making this sound like a baby crying. I had to shut it up. You can't blame me for that. So I brushed it off my desk and onto the floor. A loud cracking sound came from beneath me – I wasn't sure if it was the floorboards at first, but it wasn't. Then, when I picked my old friend up, it flopped about._

_I don't really know what to do with it now. It's back in the cardboard box, but I might chuck it on the road or something. Who knows?_

_I still haven't gone back to therapy. Mom hasn't mentioned it._

_I'm also starting school in only four days. Sounds fun._

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><p><strong>AN:**

**Just to let you guys know, I hated writing this chapter. Seriously, I feel so gross right now *shivers* But, since I'm really trying to enter into the mind of a child that is showing overt signs of psychopathy, it had to be done. The homicidal triad is a big part of this fic, as I'm sure you can tell. And, as a side note, I definitely do not approve of zoosadism, it is horrific and just wrong. Anyhow, moving on from the disturbing stuff, I have no idea how long this fic will actually be. Probably quite a few chapters, since they're quite short, and I am going through the whole of the Joker's childhood – I have many ideas planned out for future chapters and the general plot. So I hope you guys are enjoying this fic so far (as creepy as it may be), and also thank you to those 3 people who reviewed! Sorry, I think two of them were on guest accounts so didn't have a name, but one was called quinnofhearts, so thank you very much! :)**


	11. A New Chapter

_Day 82_

_Today I started school. Arkham Middle School. AMS. The acronym doesn't spell anything out. I always look out for things like that._

_My lessons were: History, Science, Spanish, Art, English and Maths. We also had a welcome assembly in the morning, followed by around half an hour in our tutor rooms, where we got our timetables and were supposed to 'make friends'. I didn't speak to anyone. _

_History was alright, a little boring. Spanish was the same. The new science labs are fascinating – apparently we get to do loads more experiment at this school, more than childish elementary school stuff like making paper parachutes. No, we do dissections here. Maths was just squiggles and circles, and English was basically just an introduction to each other where we spoke about our favourite books and read through the 'Poem of the Week'. Art was the best lesson by far. It was last, which is usually the best anyway, especially if you don't have any homework. At the start, the teacher (Miss Safran) gave us a piece of paper and some standard paints and pencils, and told us to draw something that we thought represented us. She said that we can find out more about a person from what or how they draw or write than what they actually tell us. She had a good point. If we were stuck, she said, we could just draw anything that came to mind – a favorite animal or maybe your family. As I normally do, I just closed my eyes, dipped my brush in random colours and just drew whatever my mind combined with my hand wanted me to draw. I could hear other classmates whispering and giggling at me with my eyes closed, but they were the fools when I was done. When I finally opened my eyes, I'd drawn an intricate design with a muddled background. It's difficult to describe. To some it might have looked like silly squiggles on a page, but no one could deny it was art. _

_Miss Safran looked so pleased when she came over to look at my finished work at the end of the lesson. Her face became the sun when she held the canvas at arm's length and studied it with close vision. Smiling a lot at me, she told me I would get a commendation for my work. Everyone else was silent._

_I barely spoke to anyone all day. It wasn't because I'm shy or nervous because it was my first day. I just didn't really find the time. Some kid asked if it was okay to sit with me at lunch, and I nodded, but we stayed quiet for the rest of the time before he left. _

_Mom seems really proud of me though. She looked happy at long last when I told her about Art. It made me happy too._


	12. Not At Home

_Day 85_

_School is still going good, I guess. Nothing's changed, really. Lessons are still the same as usual – Science and Art are my favorites, the others don't matter all that much to me. I still haven't spoken to anyone. _

_When I got back from school a couple of days ago, Dad hadn't come home. It was no surprise, really, since these days he's always staying out and not coming home until late – or rather, the early hours of the morning. By that time his mind is fuzzy with bottles and he shouts. But this time was different. _

_I ignored the problem at first, but then when I woke up in the morning and ate breakfast and got ready for school and he still wasn't home, I realised it was different. Mom's eyes were redder than usual, and she looked like someone had stamped on her heart. Namely, Dad. Before I had chance to say anything, she told me to have a good day at school, and that everything was going to be fine. I thought it was a strangely casual thing to say. I forgot about him at school, then when I came back home Mom's mouth was set down permanently. The next morning was the same – I didn't comment about anything to Mom, but she still reassured me. This morning, he still hadn't come back. I can almost smell Mom's purple scent of worry now, the same color as the smudges under her eyes and also some remaining flowers left over from last time Dad was at home. I do hope she'll be okay. But she always is…_

_After school, I've started walking home. In the summer, Mom sometimes used to drive down the same route that I would be using to walk home, just so I knew the way for sure. It did help. It takes about forty-five minutes, but I've started an after school art club on Wednesdays, so then it's an hour later when I get home. Before I forget, I might as well write a little about Art club. It's fun, and I love it because I get to choose whatever I want to draw. It's not like other subjects, where you have to learn and write about certain topics – I can do what I like. Also, Miss Safran thinks it could help me improve in lessons too. I think I might be better as an artist than a doctor. Though I suppose operating on someone sort of is an art form._


	13. A Turn For The Worse

_Day 92_

_I thought maybe things were good for a while. But now it's all wrong._


	14. No True People

_Day 113_

_Last time was a bad day. But things are still going down the metaphorical hill._

_It's almost funny, when I look back in this journal (I don't do it often) and see how I was so happy – or as close to happy as someone like me can get – when I first started at Arkham Middle School. I enjoyed my lessons, no one bothered me. Even the lessons that I didn't like all that much were alright. To be honest, my lessons still aren't a problem. It's the people. Well, not the teachers. I actually like most of them. It's the kids. And now, instead of being happy like I was before, I'm just confused._

_It all started on day 96. A group of boys from the grade above me – the idiotic type who act like tough kids, you know the ones – walked up to me when I was sat on some steps drawing patterns in recess. It wasn't like I was doing anything to annoy them, they're just the kind of people who thrive off others' misery. I can see why. Anyway, they shoved past me, and I just ignored them, figuring it was the best way to deal with them, plus they weren't worth my time. Bad idea._

"_You should say sorry for being rude," The ringleader had said, or something along the lines of that. "I have nothing to be sorry for," I replied, simply because it was true. Then they basically stole the notebook I was doodling in and demanded I apologize or they wouldn't give it back. It was so childish of them – well, I know they are children, so it makes sense. Eventually, a teacher came over and they chucked it back at me and ran away. Like I said, childish._

_They came back later and said that I was a coward for letting a teacher defend me. I mean, really, how stupid can they get? _

_A few days later, they stole my lunch money._

_A week later, they went through a phase of tripping me up in the corridors._

_Another few days later, they threatened to beat me up if I didn't do their homework._

_They're just annoying. I'm not scared of them. They're just silly tiny people who irritate me so much._

_In other news, Dad came home a few days ago. I don't know where he went. He was speaking to Mom for ages after I'd gone to bed – I eavesdropped on them a little. What Dad said was that he was going to try and be a better man. What I heard was that he couldn't be better if he tried (which he won't, I know that for sure), and that Mom would be back to being sad soon enough. Things will probably be good for a day or so, and then it'll be back to normal. At least I have school to take my mind off things. Well, I don't really._


	15. mY JOurNal

_Day 1_

_Yes, you (okay, I'm pretty sure you don't exist, especially since you're different now, but whatever) might have noticed that I'm back to day one instead of day hundred-and-whatever-it-was. It's not because I've suddenly developed an inability to count properly, it's because I was right. Before, when I said that the good life wouldn't last long, when Dad came home at last. I was right. It didn't last. _

_Last night, long after the flowers had started appearing again, Dad came home drunk again. To be fair, it was the first time he'd done so after coming back, but I'm not making excuses for him. Since he's that used to drinking, he acts like usual anyway, just a little more smelly. I didn't realize he was at home, actually, which is why I was downstairs for once. See, I normally stay here in my room, but for the weeks while he was away, I got used to hunching over in the window seat of the living room and writing or drawing in my journal there. So I was sitting there, doodling in my old journal that I'd grown quite attached to, when Dad came in. He asked me what I was doing, and I said "nothing", which was probably a bad choice of wording, since it naturally makes people thing you're up to something. Then he saw my journal, and he snatched it off me. I don't think he meant to take it so forcefully- no, he probably did. I'm not making excuses for him. But anyway, he saw my doodling, then spoke to me. "So, you like Art, do you?" I nodded slowly. "Why? It's a girl's subject." I said nothing. "You're not a girl, are you?" He said, followed by a big bellowing laugh. Still, I said nothing. I don't understand why he thought he was being funny. "Well, you don't need that anymore, do you? Not if you're more interested in boy's subjects." At that, he ripped up the pages in front of my face and dropped them in the bin, chuckling as he left the room._

_I hate him I hate him I hate him so much_

_Mom obviously couldn't buy me a new journal, since he'd know. Plus, neither me nor Dad told her about my old one, so she didn't even know that I wanted a new one. Instead, I just stole an empty exercise book from school and that's what I'm writing in right now. I guess it's okay. It's not like my old journal meant anything to me._


	16. Hyperbole

_Day 32_

_I haven't written in ages again. This journal smells… yellow. I don't like yellow._

_To be honest, I probably won't be writing in this journal as much now anyway, I'm too busy with school and other things, so I'll write when I feel like it, or maybe if something a bit important happens._

_Art club is still going on. I'm getting better and better with every week that goes by. I'm definitely far superior to anyone in my class. My last project was quite a large painting, and went by the theme of what Miss Safran calls a 'psychedelic' painting and design, which is painted with acrylic paint on a giant canvas. It was so much fun to create. It took me a good few weeks to finally get it done to perfection – or as close as I possibly could – but I got there. And it did look perfect. _

_Pink swirls take centre stage, but are interrupted by blue train tracks that criss-cross all over the non-existent white background. There is no yellow or orange, but plenty of green bunched at the top like some grapes ready to be plucked from their home. Some faces can just about be seen if you look closely, for they are very sly. So that the colors don't all blend into one vision, some dark spiders are crawling onto the page and surrounding the patterns. _

_I hope that description made sense. My English teacher – I can't remember his name – often says my words are confused and… what did he say?... conflicted, I think. Ah well. I guess it represents my mind. Haha, who am I kidding? I know nothing about how minds work._


	17. Silly People

_Day 54_

_Those bullies are so stupid. It's actually really funny how ridiculous they are. I almost embarrassed myself and started laughing when they were so-called 'beating' me up. _

_Basically, they've been annoying me for a few months now – just small things, like stealing my lunch money and snatching my books off me, forcing me to apologize for nothing or something silly before they'd give it back. And yesterday they decided to finally act upon those natural human urges for physical violence that were fizzling just below the surface. For me, they lay deep down. _

_So, the ringleader (Billy? Bill? I don't know) threatened me at lunch break. All I was doing was getting a few things out of my locker when he slammed the door shut before I even heard him approach. It truly was rather impressive. "Hey, squirt," He yelled, even though he was stood right in front of me. It was probably so everyone around us could hear him. "You. Me. Fight. After school. Back down, and I'll kick your butt even more." Apparently he could only speak in monosyllables now. Idiot. _

_He'd picked Wednesday, of all days, to schedule the 'fight'. I use inverted commas because it obviously wasn't arranged as a fight, more as an excuse to beat me up. Anyway, I'm pretty sure he knew I attend Art club on Wednesdays, which is why he forced me to miss it. I honestly still would have gone to Art club, but I really couldn't be bothered to put up with even more weak punching than I had to. _

_When I walked over to the old garage just outside school, where all the student fights take place, a small crowd of bullies stood in a circle surrounding Bill. A few of them parted to let me through. "Squirt! You made it! I didn't think you would." He shouted, and a few people giggled dumbly. To be fair, he probably paid or threatened them to back him up. "C'mon! Let's get started." Sliding my backpack off my shoulders, I simply stood there with my arms by my sides. It was clear from the start that it was rigged so I wouldn't win. I've never done any martial arts, so I couldn't prove them wrong and, in his own words, 'kick his butt' instead of the other way round. So I ended up on the floor while he rained down a drizzle of hits, and a couple of kicks to the stomach for good measure. I did hurt when I got home, but I found myself smiling. He was unbelievably weak. One day, I'll get him back. Well, he'll probably be his own downfall anyway, so there'll be no need for me to._


	18. The End Of Jack's Journal?

_Day 232_

_It's been a veeeeeeeeeeery long time since I last wrote. I just couldn't be bothered. I go through phases with things. I guess I'm just writing this because it's the last entry I'll ever make. Hahaha._

_To update you (you, you… You're not real) on things before I go, basically school is pretty much the same as last time. My teacher's got married now, so she's called Mrs Jackson rather than Miss Safran. I keep trying to ask her about her husband, and if he's worth it, but she dismisses me in the nicest way possible. I've actually been put in a higher class for Art (probably so she can avoid me) but for the rest of my subjects I'm average. I think I'm too clever for them. Syllabuses make no sense to me, and how is that testing intelligence? It's only testing how good someone is at repeating something. So I'm not bothering to play their game. I'm playing my own game._

_In the social section of school, those bullies still never fail to make me laugh. They've stopped annoying me personally now – after that fight months ago, I think they realized how little I'm bothered by them, and how silly they looked bullying me. They've moved onto other kids, of course. From what I've seen, the other bullied kids don't act the way I do, so they keep on getting annoyed by Bill. They're fools. Pure caricatures of idiocy. To be honest, if they let themselves get bullied then they deserve it. HahahaAHahaHaAha_

_At home, our life has been the usual. You know, Mom making so many waterfalls and keeping red eyes in the aftermath of Dad's permanent collateral damage. Last night, when he came home with a horribly bottled mind, he found me getting a snack downstairs when I should have been in bed. He started yelling at me when I was in the kitchen. At one point, he hit me, hard, on the side of my face when he thought I wasn't listening. I think that might be my first flower. I was crouching against the kitchen worktop with him towering over me when I caught a glance of Mom stood in the doorway, holding a knife nervously. She clearly had it as a defense mechanism, in case Dad tried to hurt me or maybe if he turned around to hurt her. There was a moment when our eyes met, her confused gaze meeting my desperate one. I shook my head slightly and widened my eyes, trying to tell her 'no, don't use the knife' without using words. Mom wouldn't be capable of hurting anyone. That's more a thing I would do. Okay, that sounds strange, but I would. I'd definitely hurt someone real bad if I had the chance. Haha… It's only natural, right?_

_She seemed to understand me, anyway, and Dad soon let me go._

_I have a new pet anyway. Well, I've had a lot, but they all seem to go all quiet on me after a little while. And besides, this one's a pet of my own. Mom bought it for me. Dad did allow it, of course. It's kind of impossible to keep a grown dog in the house and manage to keep it secret. Yeah, he said it could help 'toughen me up', which makes no sense. How can a mere animal change the whole persona of a human being? He talks a load of fountains and scenery, which I hate. Let's be honest, what don't I hate about him? _

_I like my dog. He's a Rottweiler, and he seems loyal, but I have a feeling it will only be to a point. He's barely got to know me yet, after all. HaHaHAHAEhahah_

_I haven't seen my therapist in a long while. I wonder where he's gone…_

_I guess some questions just aren't meant to be answered._

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**In case you guys are confused after this chapter (I probably would be, to be fair), I am still writing this fic. Don't believe a word Jack says. He's the damn Joker, for goodness' sake! But yeah, I might write a bit in non-diary form, and in third person, or I might just continue the journal format but in much larger intervals throughout his life – I haven't decided yet. If you want to suggest something in a review, or at least say which one you think would work better, that would be great. Thank you!**


	19. A Bit Of Retrospect

_Day ?_

_It was my twelfth birthday a month or so ago, so I'm on summer vacation again. I remember this time last year – I'd just set off some beautiful fireworks as part of a display with Mom in our garden- no, wait… I think I was on my own, and probably not at home. School, maybe? I'm not sure… They were very pretty fireworks, anyway. Then I had to stay at home for ages. Which wasn't too bad, since I had my cat for company. Or was it a rabbit? HAhaha, who knows. _

_AAAaaaanyway, I didn't do much this year. Just played with my dog. I haven't named him either, but I think Mom calls him Harvey. Dad just calls him a rascal. Whatever he's called, I like him. He's got some fight in him, and I like that._

_Dad still keeps making flowers. I only had one, but Mom gets more. _

_I found out that Bill actually lives near me. So, thanks to him finding out, he heckles me now while I'm walking home or just walking outside on my own in our summer vacation. I think it's only the younger ones he likes to bully. I still laugh at him. I laugh blatantly in his face now when he annoys me. I think it scares him, but it doesn't do all that much to stop him. _

_School's the same. Enough said._


	20. Same Old Semester

_Day ?_

_I'm back at school again. The work's the same. The kids are the same, if a little more irritating. Bill started on me the second we went back – just the typical boring bully behavior, tripping me up in corridors, shouting ridiculous names at me, the usual. They've decided to round me up and take me to Bill to get beaten up at least once a week. I enjoy it. It's good exercise. _

_Bill can't get me on the way home now though, since I started getting the bus. It wasn't because of him that I decided to get the bus, it just seemed like a good idea. I don't know. Mom also said it could help me make friends if I sit with them. That hasn't happened. I don't have any music devices that some other people have with headphones, and I avoid talking to people. I don't see why I should have to force myself to make 'small talk' with someone (because talking as if I'm their friend is completely out of the question), where will that get me? It won't help me get better grades or become a better person, so why bother. Because it's for their entertainment? More fool them of they think they can get me to talk. Damnit, I hate people. _

_Instead, I just stare out of the window. I look outside, but I don't see. I tend to delve deep into my own mind to keep me company. It works. I think about people a lot actually, even though I can't stand them. I stare at some kid in class when I'm bored and make things up about them – their parents are dead, murdered brutally by some loan shark who will come for them one day when they eventually get involved. Then I move onto a different kid – her dad is currently working abroad, or so they think. He's actually floating in the middle of the ocean after violent pirates took over the ship he was travelling home on. Meanwhile, her mom is in bed with her uncle. Another kid – he's dreaming about picking up his pencil and stabbing it into his sister while his dad burns down his house. They're all true. Don't you believe me? _

_At home, Mom is barely keeping together. Sometimes I think she might just burst like a pigeon and melt all over the carpet. Dad is just getting to us both. I can't stand it._

_Some girl sat next to me at lunch today. She just invited herself over. Normally I'd be annoyed at such actions, but I admire her boldness. Not many kids are confident enough to approach me these days, since I'm known as the 'oddball'. It's not a bad nickname – I like it. She asked me how I was, and I said I was great. She gave me this genuinely happy flash of teeth. I have a feeling she's happy like that all the time. She seems the type. _


	21. RIghT oR WRonGGGggG

_DAy ?¿?_

_IVE donE A BaD THinG_

_DAD IS GONE DAD IS GONE DAD IS GONE HES IN HELL NOW FOREVER HELL HELL HELL_

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_he came home and was drunk so i picked up a knife and stabbed it into him again and again and AGaiN ANd AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN without thinking and now i dont know whats happening and mom and i will have to leave because the house is BURneD the fire took over and there are black fishes in the sky everywhere EVERYWHERE and theres no going back it will never be the same and hes gone which is good right RIGht?!_


	22. Different Or Not

_Day (a few weeks later)_

_My life has changed now. I can feel it, not so deep inside. It was that one bad day that changed it all for me. I may appear the same, but I know that everything will be different._

_After that… night… Mom and I had to move house, since it… Because of the district lines, I now have to find another middle school to go to. I don't mind really. I still hadn't made any friends there, and Bill was getting way too boring to stand being bullied by him anymore. I mean, if you're going to beat someone up regularly, do it right. Anyway, we found a new school that's further into the city of Gotham, since we moved closer in the city. It's handy too, because there's a high school not too far from my new middle school that most of the kids go to, so we won't have to arrange that in a couple of years. _

_My new school is good, I suppose. I don't personally see much of a difference between schools, but this one is certainly more interesting. The bullies seem a bit more professional, at least. Well, I haven't experienced their so-called 'wrath' as of yet, and they don't seem interested in me, so I'll leave it. _

_My new home is alright. It smells purple. I like it, actually. Maybe there's a bit too much purple, because I do get low sometimes, but that's good. Our old house was black, well it was when it was crumbling to the ground-_

_My English teacher doesn't seem to like me very much. She (it's a woman this time) doesn't understand my writing and says my ideas are confused – kind of like my old English teacher. My Art teacher is okay, but she doesn't understand me as much as Miss Safran did. _

_Mom isn't coping too well. She looks at me differently now, like I'm someone else. A stranger. A monster. I'm not. And she'll get over it._


	23. That Night

_Day (a few months later)_

_I'll be a teenager next month. I've been told it's a challenging time, but isn't all of life in general challenging? Well, more so for some. I just go with the flow, whether it's good or bad. But teenage years are apparently all about 'finding yourself', which I don't understand. I mean, I don't feel as if I've ever lost myself. I change a bit, I guess. My mind thinks some strange thoughts sometimes, but I'm pretty sure that's normal. It is normal to think strange things, right?_

_Though if I should be facing up to myself and the things that happen around me soon, I should probably say what happened on that night. I'm sure you (okay, I can't exactly refer to you as 'someone' or 'it', now can I? Well I could, but it would sound odd) understand what night I'm talking about. _

_On that night, Dad had been particularly trying on our attitude. He came home late (so late), and he hadn't even come home the night before, so he'd been out for almost two days. And of course he was drunk again. I was staying up late for quite a while, sitting downstairs writing and drawing in this journal, but I'd started to be more careful after what happened to my old journal. So when Dad barged through the door, I hid my book and crouched behind the kitchen door, spying on my parents while they had an uncomfortable conversation. Dad was blaming Mom for not looking after him properly, and Mom had waterfalls streaming down her face while she was apologizing (why should she have had to say sorry? He was the monster). I saw him hit her. Then again. Then over and over and over again while she curled up into a tiny tiny ball on the floor, cowering away from him. I peered around the door frame and spotted the tempting glint of a knife on the floor right next to me. It must have fallen off the worktop along with Mom. It was actually the same knife she had been holding up that night I got my first flower, the one I'd gestured at her not to use. Well this time she couldn't tell me not to use it. _

_I picked the silver sliver up with ease and held it out of sight, behind my back. Suddenly, Dad bellowed at Mom to get out of his sight. She scampered across the floor, whimpering like a neglected animal, and crawled up the stairs. I retreated into the shadows so none of them could see me. Then, Dad's back was turned towards me while a curl of gray smoke came from the cigarette he had just lit. He never even heard me approach. I just found myself jabbing the tainted blade into his back a thousand times while he screamed – like my rabbit that time hahahahah – and slumped onto the ground, powerless against me. Red was everywhere. It's a beautiful color, but Mom didn't seem to think so. I just stood there for eternity, not looking or thinking about anything. Anything at all. Then there were dancing orange flames everywhere, conquering the red sea. Mom was shouting, yelling at the top of her lungs at me, but I could hear no sound coming out of her wide open mouth. I could feel the clutching of her hands on my arm, and it hurt a little. The next thing I remember is standing outside the house, watching it burn, burn, burn to the ground with plumes of black creatures filling the sky and no escape and a new feeling of change deep down. _

_It's weird to think I'll be nearly starting high school a year from now. _


	24. Thoughts (For Once)

_Day (back at school)_

_So. Summer vacation was booooooooring. I don't have a pet now – my dog (Harvey or whatever he was called) had breathing problems after the fire, which kind of aged him. He just sort of hobbled around being miserable from then on. I tried to cheer him up, really I did. I know that pain makes me feel happier. Pain is good, right? It means you're alive, that your nerves are working properly, or whatever, I'm not that sciencey nowadays. Anyway, I kept trying to cheer him up but all he did was whimper. Then I tried extra hard and he gave one final yelp. One final yelp, and that was it. Honestly, I know I truly detest humans, but at least they're more… hard-wearing. _

_School is… meh. Boring. Everything is. I just want some change once in a while, you know? I like just doing things spontaneously, and that's kind of impossible to a degree when I'm staying in the same school doing the same things every day for ages. That's why I stole that rabbit a couple of years ago. And also why I set my elementary school on fire. It's really fun to just do things and not care about the consequences or what people will think. I mean, what's the point in building up to something? Like if I planned out getting revenge on the bullies from my old middle school, for example. I wouldn't know what to do once I'd achieved that goal. I'm like a dog chasing cars – I wouldn't know what to do if I caught one. Though I guess I don't really chase cars in the first place… But anyway, that's not the point. Who cares about damn cars? Doing random stuff is much more fun. Hm. Maybe I should put more effort into talking to people. Or not._

_I've spent too much time on my thoughts in this entry. Then again, that's what it's for, right?_


	25. What's New? Not Much

_Day (months and months and months)_

_I know I haven't written much this school year, but literally nothing has happened. I'm fourteen now, just turned yesterday, and I'll officially be graduating middle school in a week or so time. I just want a change right now. The only thing is exams. But I actually find that I don't care about them. You get the clever kids that study enough to drive them insane and feel disappointed even when they get like eighty per cent (which I can appreciate, I suppose), then you get the kids that slack off terribly and just want to leave so they can do drugs or get their girlfriends pregnant and probably bet each other on getting the worst mark possible. And then there's me. I don't care enough to study for good grades (I believe I've expressed my hatred of examinations and the school board previously), but I'm not all that interested in slacking either. I guess I'm just sort of in the middle. As always. But hey, people ignore you for it. _

_I stole another pet the other day. It's a cat this time. We haven't had much time to bond, but I do admire cats. They act so aloof and superior to humans, which is probably true. Deep down, they're hurting too. I look forward to experimenting with it. _

_I stole some random CDs from a shop in town today as well, on the way home from school. You see, my bus drops me off in town, then I have to walk home from there, so I usually browse a little while. No one noticed me stealing them. I don't know why I did it, I don't even listen to CDs. I'm not all that interested in music to be honest. It's just some people making sounds with stuff. I don't see what the big deal is. _

_Mom and I haven't spoken much this year. She's sort of locked herself in after Dad. Plus I think she's still fearful of me. Well not really fearful, just concerned about me, I guess. I still do care about her, even though it seems like I don't. It's not like I care about anything else. But I do want her to be happy. Thing is, I doubt that she'll ever go back to normal after-_


	26. Lots Of Questions

_Day (skipping the summer vacation)_

_So I've just started at Gotham High. Or 'Gotham City High School', if you want to be posh. Which I don't. Posh kids are possibly more irritating than normal humans. Although, is there such a thing as 'normal'? I'm not too sure myself. I would say no, but everyone just tends to merge into one big stupid people after a short while, so I guess that means they're all normal…? I don't know. I've always thought of myself as separate to everyone else. So, going by that 'normal' theory, that would make me 'weird', right? Ha._

_Starting high school is different to middle school, I've noticed. Not so much the work, more the… social side of things. People expect you to talk more, be more confident, make friends. Why? It's not like you'll suddenly change. I haven't. Then again, I never do. Is that a lie?_

_Guess who's back. No, not Dad, silly. Dead people don't come back. Thankfully they don't. Wouldn't that be funny? Actually, I take it back. I wish they would. Not because I want Dad back, but because it would be chaos. Chaos is always funny. Anyway, have you guessed yet? Of course not, you don't exist. I'll tell you then. It's the bully from Arkham Middle School. You know, Bob or Billy, or whatever his name is. He's still a pretty useless bully, so it seems. He recognised me straight away, but he hasn't got round to having a proper face-to-face meeting with me yet. He has changed, I think. I know I'm generally pretty oblivious to other people, but he probably has. I mean, he's more of a thug – I think that's the right word. I saw him smoking pot behind the shed in the school yard the other day. One of the older kids – likely a senior – probably sold him it. He also carries a knife now. I saw the glint of tempting silver peeking at me out of his jeans pocket. That should certainly be interesting._

_I'm still doodling art, if that's what you can call it. I doubt I'll ever make it as an artist. It's not that I harbor self-doubt – I would be an artist if I wanted to – my mind's just not fully in it. Though are our minds ever truly in anything?_

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**I hope everyone is still enjoying this fic, I know it gets rather disturbing and creepy at times. Okay, quite a lot of the time. That is my intention, I suppose. Anyway, just a quick notice to say that I might not be posting as often over the next couple of weeks, since I have mock exams at school. It sucks, I know, but I really need to revise. Thank you!**


	27. Boring Change

_Day (a few weeks later)_

_Today I spent some time hanging about with my cat. I haven't named again, but it does make strange sounds quite a lot of the time. I know cats are supposed to meow, but this one sounds more like naeb. Naeb would be an interesting name. That is, of course, if I did name things. So it's just 'my cat' for the foreseeable future. I did actually see a 'lost kitty' poster on the way home from school matching the description of my cat. What a coincidence. _

_Still, there aren't many changes to my life. I did spontaneously set fire to some paper that was hanging about around the house with one of Dad's old lighters I found. That was fun. _

_Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa I don't know what else to saaaaaaaaaaaaaay._


	28. A Turn For The Thrilling

_Day (months)_

_This time I do have an adequate update. Bill (or whoever he is) spoke to me at long last. Ha, that makes it sound like I care. Hahaha. Sorry, that was just too funny. Anyway, he approached me in the hallway a few days ago when I was at my locker. By approached, of course, I mean he slammed my locker door shut and pinned me up against it. He really isn't one for subtlety. I can admire that sometimes. So after he 'approached' me, he whispered some kind of lame threat – I'm that used to them by now, I just sort of filter out speech – then actually said something that intrigued me. He mentioned a gang. I think he was probably in the middle of threatening me and he offered an ultimatum or something. At that point I started half-listening, and he said something along the lines of: "The initiation starts this weekend." I mean, first of all, that just sounds way too dramatic. I don't mind a bit of drama, as long as it's more chaotic drama. Scripted drama sucks. I'm talking about soap operas and marches on the high street and planned protests. I prefer it when arguments just break out or a surprise bell goes off in a public place unexpectedly and everything just descends into chaos. It's… compelling. I'm probably not making sense here, but since when have I ever made sense? Next, Bill said: "If you're not there, you'll wish you'd have gone. In fact, you'll wish you'd never have been born." HahaHAHAHA right. Plus, could he possibly get more clichéd?_

_He thought I didn't have a choice. I did – I wouldn't have gone if I didn't want to, besides, I don't mind a half-effort beating once in a while. But it did sound interesting. It was my first chance to immerse myself in something exciting, and I had the potential to gain social skills. Pfft, who am I kidding. I just wanted to do something different. I was bored, okay? I'm always bored. _

_Anyway, I went to the 'initiation' or whatever at the weekend. Actually, that makes it sound like some sort of cult. Or the Mafia. Both of which also sound intriguing… But no, this was just a 'gang', I guess. When I arrived, there was a group of seven or so guys stood in a circle. Most of them looked as if they were in the older years at school, but a couple I didn't recognise. Then there was one other guy from my year, and Bill. They all stared hard at me for a few seconds, probably in an attempt to intimidate me or make me feel uncomfortable. It didn't work – I stared right back at them until they ended up averting their gaze. The ringleader (one of the oldest from another school – or not, considering he was the head of a gang) then stepped forward and asked Bill if he was sure I would fit in. He nodded. I was expecting them to force me to 'prove my worth' or something by stealing a dummy off a baby, but after a tense moment for the others, the main guy held his hand out, so I grasped it as hard as I could and shook it. He smirked at me, like a shark, and introduced himself as Mick. We hung about for a while, they gave me their phone number and explained they'd expect me to reply and meet up with them any time they needed me for any sort of activity. It would almost definitely involve criminal offences, however minor. _

_Finally my life has taken a turn for the more thrilling._


	29. Immobile Gangs And Missing Cats

_Day (weeks and weeks and weeks)_

_The whole gang thing is turning out to be less interesting than what I first thought. I mean, if you start a gang, you should probably plan out at least an outline of what crimes you want to commit before you recruit people. Then when you do get people to join you, you get on with the crime as soon as possible, right? That seems like the fun thing to do. Well not according to Martin. Or was it Mikey? Whatever. He doesn't deserve to be the gang leader if he doesn't damn well get on with it. All they've done so far is ignored me – I haven't received any texts yet – but Bobby (Billy, Bill, I don't really care much for names) keeps on dragging me to one side at school and ensuring I'm 'ready' for the gang. Ready for what, exactly? Going by their actions so far, or lack thereof, being 'ready' would mean being prepared to laze about for eternity and not being bothered to break any rules. I would of course say all this to their faces, however I'm waiting to see how it all pans out. I won't wait long though. I'm a guy of little patience._

_In other news, my cat ran away. On second thoughts, it probably just walked. The point is, the cat is no longer a resident of my room. I never open my windows, so it must have crept out the front door on my way out. Mom never leaves the house, so it can't have been her. Speaking of, Mom's been very quiet lately. She hardly ever speaks to me these days, and spends most of her time locked inside her bedroom or the bathroom. Locked inside her own mind. She's been that way ever since that night. Since Dad and the fire. I thought she'd be better after Dad. After all, all he ever did was give her flowers and act as if we weren't important and spend his days in an alcohol-induced tempest of hate- There's so many more things I could say, but I should stop myself before I go any further. He's gone now. He doesn't matter._


	30. New Year

_Day (a month or so)_

_I went back to school a couple of weeks ago after the Christmas vacation, so I find myself in January. January is supposed to be the most depressing month for people. It's most likely a financial thing, so kids aren't affected. Which makes sense, since it's been fairly exciting for me so far._

_The gang finally contacted me. The text itself read:_

MEET US AT MALL IN GOTHAM CITY CENTER

7:30PM SAT

BE THERE OR ELSE

MICK

_Could he get more cliché? I doubt it. But a slight jolt of anticipation did go through me, I have to say. I don't know if it was because of the fact that I haven't had a text message in probably years (the last one being my mom texting to ask if I'd packed a lunch for school – back when I was at Arkham) or if it was due to the concept of properly getting into crime, since, although I've never really considered it that much, it sure sounds like a lot of fun. _

_Anyway, when I got to the mall, I couldn't see the gang at first. Then, when I was glancing around, probably looking like an idiot and also slightly suspicious, I felt myself get dragged back by my hood from behind. It was my old bully friend, Bill. I found myself stood in a small gap between the stores that expanded into a small alleyway further back and led to behind all the stores. Sure enough, the rest of the gang members were there too. Mick explained to me that the main three guys were to enter the main CD store and do a demonstration, if you like, of how to distract successfully and steal a few CDs. Then, a couple of us younger kids were to follow their lead. So, they did their demo, then Bill and I were chosen to follow suit. Since I'd stolen those few CDs a while back anyway, I figured I'd have an advantage. But the demo showed me to do it differently than my own successful way. So, Bill kind of messed up the distraction anyway, and I ended up dropping the damn thing. I blame Mickey entirely. The store assistant just gave me a warning and turfed Bill and me out onto the street. The rest of the gang didn't mind. Mick just laughed and said he'd kick me into shape eventually. Said I'd be a master criminal soon enough. Not with him as a mentor, I don't think. _

_Other events this month include me getting another pet (the cat never returned, plus they're not as fun as dogs or rabbits), maintaining my introverted exterior at school in order to avoid speaking to people, and being off school a few days. I wasn't feeling that ill, I just couldn't be bothered, really. I've done it a few times before, but since Mom cares even less now, I can get away with it more often._


	31. A Person Who Matters?

_Day (March)_

_Ages ago, the entry I made just before I left Arkham Middle School, I mentioned a girl. She'd sat next to me while I was having lunch, and she was a happy girl. You probably don't remember (you don't even have a memory), and to be honest, I don't even know why I wrote about it. Just another one of my sporadic scribblings, I suppose. I tend to do that a lot, I'm sure you've noticed. Anyway, that girl is at my school now. Gotham City High. I thought, when I found out she goes there, that maybe she always had been there and I just hadn't noticed her, yet it seemed unlikely. But no, she only arrived last week. I know I'm terrible with names, but hers is a very pretty one. It's rather complex, so I'm not entirely sure if this is right, but I believe she's called Harleen Quinzel. Although she told me to just call her 'Harley'. We met again in one of my Art lessons, when she practically skipped through the door, ten minutes late, singing that she'd been with the principal since she was a new arrival. Our teacher forgave her – most pupils would have been punished, but I think Harleen- sorry, Harley, seems to have that effect on people. Since I distance myself from anyone and everyone so much, the only spare chair in the room resided next to me, so she skipped over, flashed me the widest grin I've ever seen and plonked herself right beside me. _

_I was too reluctant to speak to her at first, so I just tried to avoid eye contact every time she glanced at me, which was very often. So we sat in silence, until she piped up. "Not fond of eye contact, are you?" When I did turn around to look at her face full of intense concentration on my answer, I did look her in the eye – probably for too long, in fact, since she looked away after a while. "Eyes are distracting, you see too much, you don't see enough," I'd told her in reply. "You know, I get the impression that you just spoke more than you have in a long time to anyone." She replied. I have to say I was rather taken aback by her response. It's not often you get someone like that who goes almost directly into psychoanalysis the second you meet them. It was pretty impressive. However, I could think of no way in which to respond, so I just turned away and carried on with my work. We didn't speak again._

_She sat with me at lunch as well again. I also still don't have a clue why Harley would choose to 'hang out', as they say, with a freak like me. Well, I'm not much of a freak really, just different. Other kids probably don't think of me as a freak, just quiet, or shy. But I like it as a label. It makes me sound interesting._

_I admire Harleen. I can tell she's got fire in her – I like that. Actually, I haven't described her physically, have I? Despite no longer being an elementary school kid, she wears her medium-length blond hair in pigtails. Her school skirt is short, but not short like the other girls' skirts. Short in a… unique way. I don't think that's the right word but never mind. She wears patterned knee-high socks too – a pattern of red and black diamonds. She chews gum a lot, and also wants to be a gymnast. Or I assume she does, since she attends many gym clubs, and I also think she mentioned it at some point during our conversations._

_Harley is a strongly yellow person. I know I used to hate that color, but I think maybe I could grow to love it._

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**Yes, I just made an overt Hannibal reference but 'whatevs', as the kids say. But I guess I can be forgiven because Harley! I wasn't initially going to add her in, but I thought 'why not?' since she's awesome, plus it's a good plot point and important moment in Jack's life too. And it's cute. They're so so adorable together. Anyway, enough of my Joker/Harley fangirling. I'm sorry I haven't uploaded in soooooo long, but I sort of dropped my laptop and it broke so it took like a week to be fixed. I was very sad, as you can imagine, since I completely rely on my laptop for uploading fanfiction, watching YouTube videos, going on Tumblr, watching films, watching Supernatural and Hannibal… I'm sure you get the point. So, again, I apologise for that, but I couldn't really have done anything about it. I'm back to uploading as usual now. Thank you again for supporting this fic, and I hope you enjoy the rest (there's some major stuff going down soon)! **


	32. SociologySociopathy

_Day (June)_

_Why is it that there are so many separate social groups? I'm mostly talking about school here, but it isn't just that. So why are social groups so much more defined in schools?_

_I guess you don't tend to notice it much in elementary school, probably because all the kids are lumped together as one, and since the grades have less students in them, everyone tends to just sort of hang out together. It becomes much more predominant in middle and high school, when there are more kids with stronger developing personalities that help to form these social groups._

_I've caught wind of several different groups: there's the kids (usually older, however there are some younger therefore distinguishably more irritating ones) that solely believe they own the world and are superior to everyone else, when in reality, they will be the ones to fall furthest. There's the very detritus of school life – and society in general – that linger on the edge of the aforementioned group and are completely prepared to follow orders from them. These are the worst kind for me, I hate them. In fact, there's one like that who recently left my school. His name was probably something insignificant, like Oliver or Oswald or something. There's also the kids that are more bothered about good grades than their social lives – that's not necessarily a bad thing, I mean socialising is overrated anyway. Why is it, then, that some groups feel more segregated than others? They're all on the same raft at school, so why do the 'less popular' kids feel the need to be part of the 'popular' group of kids?_

_Thankfully, I choose not to be part of the hype. Although I'd like to think I'm the only one who does so, I'm not. There are others. Harley, for example. That might be why she's the first person to have actually caught my interest._

_Anyway, people like us are known as the outcasts – the 'weird' ones or 'freaks'. I love being that person._

_In some sort of a conclusion, I find social groups very strange. (That makes it sound like I just did some sort of a scientific, or rather social, experiment.) But there's no point concerning myself with such trivial matters._


	33. Happy Birthday

_Day (July)_

_Today was my fifteenth birthday. For once, I didn't feel the need to entertain myself by spontaneously setting my school on fire. Probably because, for the first time in my life, there's someone who (for whatever reason) actually seems to… like me._

_In the morning, I just shouted to Mom that I was leaving for school, the same as I do every morning. She didn't reply, the same as every morning. I arrived really early. I don't even know how I end up getting there so early sometimes, though the other times I arrive really late – I guess I just set off and get on whichever bus is there (there are ones every ten minutes on a school morning) without looking at the clock. Clocks are weird anyway, I don't see why some people are so obsessed with constantly checking the time. It's not like it makes a difference. I mean, it's gonna be three o'clock whether you look at the clock or not. Anyway, so I got to school early and sat doodling for a while, though I ended up just drawing loads of circles since my mind wandered after a little while. I trudged over to registration, then first lesson, without anything much happening. Then it was recess. At recess, I usually sit in a corridor and doodle, or just sit quietly on a bench, or work on some art project in the art room, or sometimes recess flies past like a piece of fish that someone didn't cook enough so quickly that I don't even notice it happened. But not this time._

_I was just strolling down the corridor or leaving a classroom or something, I can't remember, when Harleen came bouncing towards me, practically radiating joy, just like a kleptomaniac who had just stolen their entire Christmas list. "Hey, Jack!" She called out to me. "Harley." I simply stated and nodded in reply. It's difficult to avoid her at all. I looked over her shoulder briefly and saw that Ed, this kid a couple of grades below us who sometimes hangs with Harley, was trailing behind with a slightly socially awkward yet also enthusiastic expression. They are both generally happy kids, and I think Harley helps to bring out a bit of confidence in him – it's no wonder they get on. So, before saying anything else, Harley thrust an object that was wrapped in… birthday paper or something in my hands. _

"_I heard it was your birthday – Ed hacked the school system and found out. I thought I'd get you a little gift, you know, since your old notebook is all scraggly and… well, old. Hope you like it!" When I tore off a little piece of brightly colored paper, a brand-new sketch book was revealed to be inside. "Why?" was the first thing I said. "'Cause it's your birthday! And I guess I'm just nice like that." Harley beamed at me, her bleach white teeth (without been bleached, of course) standing proudly in front of me. I was silent for a moment, then before her smile could be cut off her face completely, I spoke again. "I don't know what to say…" "Thank you, for one!" Harley began, her grin returning. "Look, I gotta go now, but I'll see you later – we've got Art last, right? Okay, bye!" _

_In Art, she kept chattering to me, asking me what I was doing for my birthday, but I barely had a chance to get a word in. To be fair, there was nothing I had planned after school anyway, though I told her I was having a meal with Mom. It was true, in a way._

_When I did get home earlier on tonight, I went straight to my room and got out Harleen's sketch book. I was in the mood for doing a proper drawing, rather than just doodling, but I wasn't sure what to draw. It didn't take me long to decide. Soft yellow curls and wide blue circles. A few red and black diamonds. It was complete._


	34. Some Truth In His Words

_Day (late August)_

_I've done something which could later prove to be a bit of a mistake. I told Harleen about Mick's gang._

_I wasn't going to tell her, since I'm someone different when I'm with her, and the masks I put on in alternate scenarios shouldn't mix together – otherwise I might end up confusing them or they might meld into one, one side of the mask the 'nice' and halfway to 'normal' kid who almost fits in, the other a twisted outcast who is destined for an immoral and abnormal (also likely short) life. No, I'm never in conflict about which version of me I am. I know who I am. I'm just not entirely sure about which path I'll choose. Well, I'm sure that when the time comes to make my decision, I'll choose the one I feel like doing at the time. I can't imagine doing anything else._

_I've gone off on a tangent again, haven't I? _

_It was not my intention to let Harley know about the boring times I have in the frankly ridiculous gang, however it just sort of… happened. Since we're on summer vacation right now, I've been doing nothing. Mom's still locked away, physically and psychologically, so I doubt she'll be taking me to see any clowns this summer. I think Ed must have found out where I live when he 'hacked' the school system as well – he and Harley turned up on my doorstep about a week into our vacation, Ed looking awkward as per usual, and Harley being her normal energetic self. I asked them what they were doing there, so Harleen replied by saying that she was inviting me into the city with them, just to kill some time since none of us were doing anything. I then asked her how she knew I would be free to go with them – I could have been busy. She said I seem like the 'kind of guy that doesn't do much out of school'. How she can deduce so much about me I'll never know. _

_We started hanging out more and more in our spare time. Ed came with us sometimes, and, less often, Harley's sister's friend, Cat, would tag along. She's alright, I suppose. Very sneaky, I can tell she has many many secrets. Which isn't a problem, really. I mean, who doesn't have something to hide?_

_At the same time as hanging out with Harley and co., Mick persisted in contacting me to do little thieving jobs or ask me for the best route through the city to get to some seedy alleyway. It was probably to deal drugs or something. I'm not that interested. If I was keeping in regular contact with both social groups, then it's fairly obvious that one would find out about the other sooner or later. So I received another text from Bill one day in Harley's presence (just Harley, Cat had gotten bored with us and Ed was doing some nerdy science competition). Being an inquisitive girl, she naturally asked me who it was who had texted me. I said no one. She asked again. I still said no one. She then proceeded to snatch my phone off me, quick as a hurricane, and read my text. Unfortunately, it was a text that seemed obviously from a gang member:_

GOT A JOB.

MEET US IN 10 MINS IN THE ARCADE ALLEYWAY.

BILL

_I could see Harleen's expression drop and blossom with suspicion in a matter of seconds. "What is this, Jack? You've been hanging about with Bill? It doesn't look good…" she'd almost whispered. "Harleen, I-" I began to explain, but she cut me off. "It's Harley." Her tone was icy and knife-like. I tried again. "Harley, then. I know that doing jobs for gang members doesn't seem like the right thing to do, but it's actually quite boring. And rules are made to be broken, right?" Silence, as she stared at the ground and her pretty red and black socks. "C'mon, Harley, you could join us! It'd be fun. You'll be great, you'll fit right in with me by your side…" My argument probably didn't help much. "Oh, I'd fit right in, would I? What do I look like to you, some sort of criminal? Ugh, Jack. I thought you were better than this." At that, Harley stormed off. She hasn't spoken to me since, and we go back to school in a couple of days._

_I'm sure I can get her to come round._


	35. Christmas

_Day (December)_

_Harleen has just begun talking to me again. I haven't mentioned the gang. I've been acting sort of shy so I think she thinks I quit it for her. Would that I could, Harley. Would that I could._

_It's Christmas soon, anyway. Just in time for the festive season, guess what happened? My cat returned. You know, the one I didn't name, but I said 'Naeb' would be a cool name? I don't know how it got back, it just turned up on the street one day. It doesn't look too well, but I was thinking of giving it to Harley as a Christmas present. She'd appreciate it, I'm sure._

_In other news, Mom hasn't spoken in a very long time. She's so quiet I'm beginning to worry a little, but I'll leave it for now. After all, she doesn't seem to worry about me- No, Jack, don't think like that. Mom is one of the few people who have ever truly cared about me, and I can't throw that back in her face. But I'm sure she's fine. She always is._

_I don't usually get into the Christmas spirit, since, you know, consumerism and all. But this year feels different. It might be because I actually have people close to friends with whom I can share the festivities this year. I think it'll be fun, anyhow._

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**I know I haven't uploaded in a few days, but… okay, I have no excuse. I was going to write a lot for this fic yesterday, I promise. Anyway, I know this chapter is pretty terrible but I had a headache when I wrote it yesterday so it's minimal effort I'm afraid. Sorry, I'm being a bit of a downer here – who's excited for Christmas? I can't believe it's Christmas Eve already! I'm with relatives for a few days, so this is the last chapter until after Christmas. I hope you all have a great time and get awesome presents (hopefully not any creepy cats from the Joker), I'm really in the festive mood now :) See you soon!**


	36. Gang Stuff

_Day (January)_

_Things in the gang are really heating up for the New Year. Finally, we're getting some, uh, ACTION!_

_Bill contacted me on January 2__nd__ to tell me we were doing a town run again. But not the boring CD-stealing town runs I've spoken of in the past – a proper raid sort-of thing. When I arrived in our usual alleyway meeting place, Mick and co. were already there, and Bill was a few steps ahead of them. He came half-jogging towards me. "Damnit, Jack!" He panted, already out of breath. "You're almost late, we thought you weren't gonna turn up. Well, Mick said you would, but- just, damn. You gotta be careful, you know. He'll turn you out if you let him down just once. Come on, we got work to do." I simply nodded my head at him and strolled casually forwards. I was barely late. Plus, I don't like to be early to gang meetings, it gives off the impression that I'm… not the kind of guy I think I am. Or at least, who I'd like to be. _

_Mick wasn't mad. He never is mad with me, really. I've gained a lot of respect from him in such a short time, it's almost like I'm his right hand man, so I suppose that's why he'd prefer to have me on his side rather than ditch me. It's probably because I act so nonchalant, he sees me as a bit of a threat. I'm not threatening, really. Am I?_

_So, we got the job done, ran through town, snatched the bags of a few loaded posh folk. We earned about $700 all in all, which would have been $140 each between the five of us. That is, if the money was split equally. The other two guys who worked with us on this one didn't do all that much work, so they only earned 45 bucks each. Bill and I both got 150 dollars each, and Mick (despite literally not doing anything to get his hands dirty) got the rest, aka $310. Bill was pretty ticked off but I was cool with it. I don't have anything to spend my money on as it is, I'm not bothered about getting more. The fun part is the chase. That's all what matters to me._


	37. Forgot To Mention

_Day (still January)_

_I realise now that last time I forgot to mention Harleen. And, of course, the Christmas present I sent her. Did I say that it was the cat? I don't remember. But anyway, I sent her the cat, Naeb. Looking back on it, it probably wasn't a sufficient idea to put it in a box. _

_I posted the package to Harley's house, so she'd get it first-hand. Due to the fact that we've barely traded words since we had that tiny disagreement ages ago, I figured she wouldn't really want to see me on Christmas Day. Apparently, I was wrong. She arrived at my house later on that very day, just after Mom and I had a slightly uncomfortable silent Christmas dinner. Since Mom never answers the door these days, I was faced with Harleen's… wrath, you might call it. She was stood there in her classic blond pigtails, still wearing a paper party hat from earlier on. It would have been amusing – well, I personally giggled a little at the sight of her, but she soon shut me up._

"_A cat. A dead cat. What the HELL were you thinking, Jack? What is WRONG with you?" She erupted like a long-dormant volcanic iceberg. Though there was one thing she said that stuck out. One thing to which I had to reply. "Dead? Harleen, I can assure you-" "IT'S HARLEY!" She couldn't help correcting me, not after all this time. I continued. "Harley. I, uh, can assure you that the cat was, in fact, alive when I mailed it. I wouldn't send you a dead cat. I wouldn't do it! I wouldn't." But she still had an answer. "Well of course it was alive when you mailed it, but how on earth can you expect it to stay that way if you post it in a box WITH NO AIR HOLES?! Seriously, Jack, just don't speak to me. Ever. Again. Okay? I'll see you in hell. Ugh." Or something along the lines of. The point is that she made it quite clear she's frankly disgusted with the sight of me. Well, it's not like I need her anyway, right? Or her ridiculous friends. Harleen and Ed can go off to some gymnast club or video game conference together and do whatever the hell they like, for all I care. I've got my own mind, which is worth ten of them. Each. Ha. Hahaha. HAhaHAhHahaHA_


	38. Lonely Kid

_Day (near Easter sometime)_

_Harley's still avoiding me. At first I didn't even try, I just thought she'd come back to school one day having forgotten the whole cat thing, realise I've never meant to hurt her really and we'd start talking again, maybe hang out in the city, she would bring Ed along if she wanted and everything would be back to what is (despite not existing) generally regarded as 'normal'. But no. Instead, she hasn't said a word to me, other than "leave me alone" a few times when I asked her a question – regarding work, nothing more, nothing less – in class. Which means that school is pretty much the same, just lonelier. _

_It's funny, I was never bothered about being lonely before… Before her, I suppose. I guess I got used to putting up with the company of a human being other than myself. She was fun to have around. I kind of… miss her. Oh, would you listen to me. It's almost like I'm moping around after being dumped like some ridiculously immature freshman. I'm not moping. I'm not. I'm coping._

_In other, more important news, I haven't seen Mom in a few days. Or is it weeks? I can never be sure. She's been locked in her room again (or her mind, more likely) for ages, not going out or seeing anyone or even speaking to me. Not that it affects me. I shout up to let her know when I'm home from school and I ask her if she wants any dinner, but every time I'm met with no reply. So I get by with making my own meals and ironing my own clothes. Come to think of it, the last time she spoke to me (whenever it was), Mom seemed quite… emotional? Is that the right word? I don't know, I often wonder if I'm oblivious to human emotion. Probably. Anyway, I was saying goodnight to her one night, just a regular school night, and she called me over. "Jack?" She said. "Jack, I know you and I haven't seen eye to eye recently, but I just want you to know that I love you. You know that, right? I love you very much and I always have done. Even when times were difficult, with Dad and… other changes. You mean the world to me, Jack, and whatever happens to you in life, I know you'll stay strong, because you are. You know that, right?" I simply nodded, not really knowing what else to do since I'd been caught unawares by Mom's sudden outpour. "Good boy. Have a good sleep, Jack. I love you." Those were her final words to me before I went upstairs. I didn't think anything of it at the time. I still don't. She's okay is Mom. I know she is._


	39. Nothing To Report

_Day (June)_

_I'm turning sixteen tomorrow. I'm not excited, nor am I upset, really. I just don't feel anything, I suppose. _

_It's not like I'm doing anything worthwhile to celebrate, either. Mom's been silent for a few months now, and Harleen hasn't spoken still. The only thing I have left is the gang, and even they have been quiet. The last time they contacted me was for another lame CD stealing run. Even then, I don't think much planning went into it. I want something exciting from them – something game changing that is actually fun for once. _

_I guess I don't have anything to report this time. I've even taken to doodling again, which I'd left for a while due to my… social life, I guess you could call it, improving. Life's just so… boring, recently. _


	40. Hell Yeah!

_Day (summer vacation again)_

_I am so excited right now. It's not often I get excited, certainly not to this degree, however I think this occasion calls for such a reaction. Allow me to explain._

_A couple of weeks ago, things were boring, as I previously mentioned. Things remained boring for at least another few weeks, that is until two days ago. When I was nearing the end of my bored phase in life, I got a feeling. A good old instinctual gut feeling. Things were looking down for a while, but I started looking up. That makes it sound like I turned religious or something, but no, that's not what I meant. What I mean is that I just got a good feeling, that's all. A good feeling concerning the gang. _

_To be honest (as honest as I ever am), it was getting to the point in the gang where I was so bored and unbelievably irritated with them all that I almost gave in to the urge to just dispose of Mick already and claim my place as leader. But I've never been much of a leader. And I couldn't be bothered. I know that if I definitely want the gang to be mine, I can make it happen. But that's not what I wanted. I was just going with the flow until something interesting happened. Which it has._

_Yet again, Mick and Bill hadn't been in contact for a while. So nothing had changed there. But then I received a text, from Mick this time. I can't remember what it said exactly, but it was only short. Abrupt. The generic message was that something was happening, so I needed to get down there with them. So I went._

_Turns out, after I put up with their stupid faces for at least an hour while they ran through the plan, Mick has decided to perform a car theft. A proper car theft! Finally, they're actually getting to the juicy bits. While all the others had these ridiculous solemn masks on their worried faces, I had to use up all my will power to not burst into laughter right there and then. This is brilliant. Just brilliant. It's happening in a few days. I can't wait I can't wait I can't wait_


	41. DON'T

_DAy (?)_

_EVERYTHING IS WRONG. ALL OF IT. IT WAS GOING SO WELL AND NOW IT'S ALL RUINED – I'M RUINED. I'M A MONSTER. A MONSTER. IT CAN'T BE STOPPED. I-_

_Day (a few weeks?)_

_I thougHT iT WOuld BE BetTEr bY NOw BUt it'S NOT_

_Day_

_I CAN'T DO THIS I CAN'T I- AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA_


	42. Me

_Day (November)_

_So we started the car theft. It was dark, about half eleven at night. The car itself was parked in an abandoned part of the city – a trashed parking lot, to be exact. It was surrounded by abandoned warehouses with boarded up windows and litter strewn across every inch of concrete. I remember it clearly, I think. No one would have seen. No one should have seen. _

_We planned to meet not far from there. Mick brought a crowbar - a sufficient weapon, yet it was only to be used to smash the car window. I would have suggested picking the lock, but the opposers of subtlety wouldn't have listened. Plus, it was entertaining watching it. Bill was to bring a sack, just in case there was anything worth stealing in the boot. I only had to bring myself. Whoever that is._

_When we arrived, we simply circled the car, like vultures or any old predator waiting to pounce. It was completely silent when Mick smashed the window. So silent that you could hear every piece of glass tinkle as it punched the pavement. But it turned out we weren't the only ones who could hear it._

_A couple of police officers leapt out from the shadows a moment later. They were quick, but we were quicker. Soon enough, we found ourselves sprinting for our lives. It was obvious we couldn't outrun them outside, so we followed Mick's lead and dashed through the door of one of the warehouses. It wasn't a warehouse. There were large vats that we figured must have once contained chemicals, maybe even radiation. We assumed they were empty. I wish. Or do I?_

_Swinging like monkeys from jungle trees, we climbed up through the metal beams until we were standing on a metal mesh platform that ran all the way along to the other end of the warehouse, towering above the vats. Their hearts were racing with fear, mine with excitement. Mick, of course, was stupid enough to run all the way to the end, screaming at us to follow. So they did. What other choice did they have? The cops were closing in, and Mick had always been a leader. But I decided not to follow him. It's not in my nature. I was last running, so the cops were closest to me. So guess what I did. I jumped. I could see no other way out, and to be honest, I knew I'd enjoy the exhilaration. Little did I know one of the chemical vats was open. And full._

_The last thing I remember was drowning. It had felt like I was flying for a moment, truly liberated. Then this disgusting substance was engulfing me, coming at me from all angles. It felt dirty. I just wanted it to leave me alone. I must have scrubbed at my skin for weeks after it happened. I've never felt clean since. _

_Then I woke up in the hospital. The doctors, the unfamiliar coats around me were all looking down on me with pity in their masks. It was the worst feeling. Pity. Such a spiteful word. They told me I wasn't… the same. That I was different. The first time they felt I was 'ready' to finally see myself, one nurse came in with a mirror. A black mirror. It was tainted after it had been forced to reflect me in it. Me. I'm colorful now. I have this… different skin. Different hair, different lips. It's… art. Art was how I always felt I could express my true self, if such a thing exists. Now I know who I am. I know. I know, and I like it._


	43. Alone In This World

_Day (still November, definitely November)_

_I bet you thought that was the end of the story, didn't you? No. It wasn't. When I eventually got home from the hospital – I actually discharged myself, I was planning my escape for weeks so it was perfect and nobody noticed – I knew I had to face up to going back to school. The doctors told me that my new face would wear off in a few months, so long as I kept taking my pills and bathing it in a certain solution each day. Thing is, I didn't take them with me when I sneaked out, but it wasn't like I cared anyway. They had told me no one at school would be bothered by me, but it was ludicrously obvious they would. _

_When I got home, I called for Mom, screaming her name at the top of my lungs, but to no avail. I vaguely remembered the doctors saying they couldn't get hold of her on the phone, so she must have stayed locked away. She still was. That night I went to bed feeling utterly alone. I knew that nothing and no one could save me now. I screamed into my pillow and squished my face up against it, which was painful. But pain is good. _

_The next day it was obvious that the hospital would have noticed I was gone, but I couldn't keep a low profile. I had to go back to school. I had to know what they'd think of me. What their faces would look like when they saw my true face. So I went, not bothering to cover up my face at all, apart from on the bus. I strolled into the yard, and the littlest kids ran away, shouting and calling out for their friends in fear and confusion. The middle kids stared, not saying anything. Then the older kids, the ones who shared classes with me, they looked away, ashamed. I'm not exactly sure what, or who, they were ashamed of. Me? Or themselves? _

_Naturally, a teacher spotted me soon enough, and I saw them sprinting towards me in slow motion, dialling some number on their cell phone, whether it was the police or the hospital, I don't know. I stood there, completely still therefore exposed for a good few moments, but then I knew the only option left for me was to run. Run far, and run fast. But I had to make one stop first._


	44. Ascension

_Day (Remember, remember, the somethingth of November)_

_When I got back home, I simply nudged open the front door and stood there for a while. Yes, I'm aware that the police or the hospital, more likely both were pursuing me, therefore I was wasting precious time, however I let it slide. Time is a ridiculous concept anyway. All it does is expose the insecurities of humans as we can't live without keeping track of how 'time' is passing, otherwise the world descends into chaos. Or ascends, it depends how you look at it. I find it very therapeutic just to let it all go every once in a while. Just hide all clocks, all reminders of time, and go with the flow. Nothing changes really; the idea that everything will change is but an illusion. Plus, it's far easier to get on with things when you're no longer under the pressure of time. Ignoring the concept is good for you._

_So I stood there, ignorant of insignificant therefore non-existent time, and I saw my home. Really saw it, you know? I didn't just look at the walls and the carpet and the furniture and acknowledge its presence. I saw beyond the tangible objects. I truly saw the foundations of the house – I'm talking metaphorically here – the history and stories concealed in the very secretive physical state of the building. Perhaps it was because it would be the last time I ever saw my house. Or perhaps it was because I was finally on the same wavelength as my true self for the first time ever, therefore my eyes were open at last. Whichever it was, I saw._

_Once I'd finished seeing, I gradually ascended the stairs, leaving the front door wide open behind me. I was going to visit Mom. The only room she ever spent time (ha) in was her room, so I headed in that direction. I gave her door a gentle push as I stepped in. I knew what was there before I even entered. I suppose I always knew, deep down, though it was only then that it was confirmed. There, upright in a bedside chair, sat my mother. I was vaguely aware of an acrid scent emanating from her empty self, yet it seemed unimportant to me. All that mattered was the truth had been released. Now, I am free._


	45. Belonging

_Day (December)_

_You're probably wondering where I am right now. I smashed the window of Mom's room after the events I recalled last time. I didn't protect my hand with anything, I just punched straight through it. It didn't even hurt. I feel like I have all this anger inside me, but it doesn't seem to show on the outside. It's what powers me, fuels me on in this life. To be honest, I don't know what did before. _

_The glass was shattered, but I didn't stay to admire its beauty – instead, it finally hit me that I needed to escape before anyone arrived. So I jumped out of the window, allowing myself a couple of moments to appreciate the elated feeling of liberty that briefly flying gives a person while I gained my balance, then I ran. In fact, the only thing I have on me now is this journal. I don't remember ever picking it up, unless it was already in my school bag or jacket pocket. Either way, it's here. _

_After running for a while, I noticed it had grown dark. I must have been running for a while, then. I hadn't noticed. When you finally discover your freedom and learn to self-actualise (though I sort of skipped the self-esteem part, Maslow wouldn't be happy), you no longer tend to notice trivial things. I knew there was nowhere for me to go, nowhere I belonged. Most people would find that concept unnerving or depressing to cope with, however I'm the opposite. I think that if you have nowhere to go, it only brings more opportunities for you, opens doors to more available places for you to discover and make your own. See, if you don't belong anywhere, you can simply go elsewhere and make yourself belong there. Or, even better, create a new place to belong in. There are so many new things to be discovered once you accept you're moving on, and I personally find that reassuring._

_So now, here I am. On the streets, wandering about, choosing where I can belong. I have no fear of people, nor do I harbor concerns about how I shall take care of myself. The only thing to fear is fear itself, as some guy said. Though I prefer my phrase: fear doesn't exist, so why should we succumb to it?_


	46. Ideas

_Day (June)_

_I haven't written in a long while, I think. Life has treated me like a person since I last wrote. My new face, my true face, faded away after a few months. It was probably gradual, though to me it wasn't. I never had the chance to look in many mirrors, only shop windows, so I suppose that's why I didn't notice it straight away. I took it for granted. Once I saw my face was almost back to before, back to old, fake me, I remembered when the doctors told me it would go back to normal eventually. But I couldn't stand the thought of that. It was me. My face, it was me that way, not the old way. So I went and bought some white paint and black shoe polish. That would stay on, right? As for my lips… What else is red?_

_My hair remained green – I can't ever see that changing, it seems pretty permanent. After buying my products, I recreated myself in the stall of a run-down public toilet, using only a broken shard of glass to check myself in. It was perfect. My idea of perfection._

_I don't have a job or anything yet, since I've been a wanderer ever since I left home. Though not all wanderers are lost. In fact, it's rare that you do find a wanderer with no idea as to which direction they are headed. On the other hand, I know what I am, therefore I have a vague final destination in mind. It's not a sane one, but it's fun, in my opinion. First, though, I need money. Not that I have anything to buy, it just seems like a good idea. Money. The idea of it truly is motivating. _


	47. Career Paths

_Day (October)_

_Things haven't changed massively yet. I forgot last time I wrote an entry, I'm seventeen now. That changes nothing, of course. Age is but a construct based on the flow of time, about which I have previously expressed my opinion. Anyway._

_I got that job I was after. I always remember people at school talking about jobs. You know, small talk that I happened to pick up subconsciously. They would describe their part-time jobs in the summer vacation – washing cars, working as waitresses in greasy gas station diners, helping out family members. None of which ever interested me. Then there's the other end of the spectrum, when we had that careers advisor in school, mostly in our later years there, who we spoke to about what we wanted to do after leaving hell- I mean high school. Those meetings were supposed to be serious and inspirational, I suppose, but they never worked for me. It usually went along the lines of this: Teacher: "So, do you want to go to college when you leave?" Me: "Not really." Teacher: "Okay then, how about a career? What do you want to do when you're older?" Me: "Don't know." Teacher: "What's your favorite subject?" Me: "I don't know." And so it would go on, round and round in circles until the teacher got so frustrated with me that she just told me to go back to class. _

_Now, I think my job suits me well. I'll just cut to the chase instead of making you guess. I work in a bar, but not as a bartender or the kind of person my careers advisor would frown upon. I'm a comedian. I do some jokes, usually get no laughs, since no one really listens, then leave. I get money too. Not much, but I don't tend to use it anyway. It's strange, you're probably thinking. How am I suddenly the thing you would least expect me to be? A funny guy… Well, I just saw the bar and said I do gigs. They hired me. I guess the boss had nothing better to do. It's good. I like it. So that's my foreseeable future. What's yours?_


	48. The Girl

_Day (December)_

_My job is going great. Some people actually laughed the other day. I remember the joke – wanna hear it? Here it goes… Did you hear about the fire at the circus? It was in tents! See that's funny, right? Haha! Wait, I have more: What did one shark say to the other when eating a clownfish? This tastes funny! And, what do you call a psychic midget who escaped from prison? A small medium at large! These are all funny, right? I'm a funny guy!_

_There was someone who laughed, or just smiled pleasantly at me, when I was doing my gig. She was alone, no one at the table with her. I guess she was pretty, but how would I know? Afterwards she approached me briefly and said I did well or something. She was there last night as well. Not sure what's up with that._

_I think something might happen with her. Not anything like Harley. I'm talking about her being an important… Oh what am I saying. Nonsense. I speak a load of nonsense. Ha._


	49. The First

_Day (February)_

_Why do I even bother with people? Humans are such irritating little creatures – little bags of betrayal and mistrust, and if you're not, then you're a shell of a person who was once betrayed and who had their trust lost. There's no way out, if you think about it. I generally don't get attached or even socialise, but every time I decide to put myself out there, it ends badly._

_It was that girl. She saw me one night when I'd left the club. I'm sure she followed me on purpose. I don't like that. But she soon saw that I had nowhere to go, which isn't entirely true, as I do have a motel room rented out, I just don't go back there every night. I like to wander. But alone, not with people nagging me. Not that she was. She just… intervened. She claimed she was 'worried' about me, if I had nowhere to go or no one to go to. She acted like the whole concerned person who takes in stray puppies and donates to the homeless. I can't stand it._

_She told me her name at some point, she must have. I don't remember it._

_At first, I was wary, however I did begin to make small talk and I thought maybe she did want to help. Maybe she could prove helpful. So I let her in. We talked. She asked me about my make-up, if it was just part of the act and why. I said it was, even though it's not. It's me, it's no act. Even though to other people it only looks like silly clown make-up from a children's party. Though I suppose that's the idea. For the moment, at least._

_Eventually, the woman betrayed my trust. She coerced me into admitting I was wronged and alone and that I needed help. I don't need help! I'm complete. But I put her right. I didn't say anything, as such. I just set her straight. She could be anywhere right now. I know where she is physically – dumped on the cold cobbles, water (or some kind of liquid) draining out of her. But spiritually, she could be anywhere. Isn't that funny?_


	50. I?

_Day (mine)_

_I don't know what happened but something happened_

_I don't know where I am_

_I don't remember but I do I DO:_

_I was coming out of the club after finishing a gig-I do gigs yes I'm funny-and then some guy approached me with a broken bottle he was drunk and flailing and aggressive and he threatened me and I was confused so I couldn't react then he punched me-a stupid punch he couldn't aim-but still I fell on the ground and the broken shards of the bottle came close to my face and CUT me-_

_No, wait, that isn't right…_

_That girl I remembered her and what she did and what happened to her because of me and then I found a penknife and I found a sliver of glass to use as a black mirror and the blade tasted metallic in my mouth-_

_That's still not correct…_

_It was him I thought he was gone I stabbed him out of this world and he burned but he found me all alone-it was him-and he had a razor-it was my dad it WAS-returned from the grave to punish me for what I did all those years ago and to mom as well he blames me-the razor-YEs the razor he sliced my face-_

_Is it true? Is it? What happened? I don't-_


End file.
